


Surrender, Surrender, But Don't Give Yourself Away

by dustyirish



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Language, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyirish/pseuds/dustyirish
Summary: Hopper can’t fight that feelin’ anymore.





	Surrender, Surrender, But Don't Give Yourself Away

**Author's Note:**

> *THIS IS NOT A NEW FIC* This was part of my earlier oc fic ‘Convergence’, and the only part that I honestly think is worth saving out of that mess. It’s possible that in future I might rework the Steve & Jonathan bits into a Stonathan fic, but at the moment Steve’s up in my face with ‘The plot’s cool and all, but who the hell is this random chick trying to get with Jonathan?? MINE, BITCH!’ So I just decided to pull out the Jopper bit and post separately. *IN SHORT, IF YOU'VE READ 'CONVERGENCE', YOU'VE READ THIS.*
> 
> I can also be found on Tumblr under myspookysunshine - where I'm taking requests or prompts or pretty much whatever.

_Then I woke up, Mom and Dad are rolling on the couch_  
_rolling numbers, rock and rolling, got my Kiss records out_  
_Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright_  
_they just seem a little weird_

_~ Cheap Trick_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hopper found Joyce in the bathroom on her hands and knees, violently scrubbing the floor around the base of the toilet.

If she was surprised by his presence in the doorway she showed no sign. She spoke without turning.

"Seriously, is it a guy thing, Hopper? Some macho caveman marking territory bullshit?"

He could tell by those couple of sentences that she was tense, angry and frightened - maybe even more than normal.

Hopper was having a bit of an abnormal reaction himself, looking at her crouched there in her old tattered jeans and button-down mom shirt.

He couldn't begin to explain it, but he was sure as hell having it.

" _Well_?" she demanded.

"I didn't piss on your floor, Joyce," he said, calmly enough.

Other parts of Hopper were currently anything but calm. He shifted uncomfortably.

It was nothing short of ludicrous, but the yellow rubber cleaning gloves covering her hands were somehow getting to him the most. Freud would have a fucking field day.

"Unzip, aim, pee. How hard can it possibly be?" Joyce snapped.

The mild arousal turned to desire flooding through Hopper, sudden and ferocious enough to make him a little insane with it.

"Hard as a rock."

Real goddamn smooth, Hop. Beautiful.

Joyce finally looked back over her shoulder, perplexed. "Hopper? Are you coming on to me?"

Now came the choice that Hopper had so long struggled with. Either retreat out of an abundance of caution - which was what he had been convincing himself was best for months now - or finally go with his gut.

One more glance at the soft swell of Joyce's backside and Hopper decided caution could go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.

"What would you say if I was?"

Joyce snorted. "That your timing is ridiculous." She shot him another look and turned back to her task.

"Yeah? Somehow, it doesn't feel so ridiculous."

He moved from the doorway and crouched behind her, running the backs of his hands slowly along her sides. She let out a shaky, need-filled sigh. He then swooped down and closed his teeth on a denim-covered ass cheek.

The scrub brush clattered to the tiles.

Joyce was definitely on board. If she hadn't been, the brush would have sailed for his skull instead.

He nuzzled her neck, unable to keep himself from grinding softly against her, pushing her perilously close to the open toilet.

"Jesus, Hopper, I'm a mess," she protested, but her fingers scrabbled at his hips to encourage the movement.

"If that's the best excuse you have," he grated out "then I'm gonna go ahead and assume this is happening."

He turned her and gently took her hands, placing them on the edge of the bathtub before reclaiming his place behind her. He cupped her still-clothed breasts, tracing his tongue down her spine.

"Can I at least lose the gloves?" Definite arousal, but now also the slightest hint of amusement.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one. That's the sexiest part."

He caressed her for a few more minutes, nibbling at her earlobe, teasing her nipples through the shirt.

He didn't drag it out too long. They'd had enough waiting.

"Rubber?"

"Pill."

"Kids?"

"Out."

Hopper took her bent over the tub.

There was nothing graceful about it; his gun tossed carelessly into a corner, uniform nearly ripped off, rubber gloves flying to land halfway into the hall.

He left his mark on her neck as she reached back to press encouraging bruises into his thighs.

It didn't last long. Both of them were way too pent up for that.

Hopper came hard, on a chest-deep groan. Joyce was almost eerily quiet except for the softest of cries as she fluttered around him.

Catching his breath, Hopper turned her head to look into her eyes. He saw pleasure, and maybe a bit of contentment. But, behind that, there was still the other shit lurking, waiting to bubble back to the surface.

He was determined to see it gone, that haunted, scared look, if only for a few minutes. And if he had to fuck it away, so be it. He had done far worse for far less important reasons.

Joyce seemed to read his intent and her eyes took on the hint of a challenge.

He leaned up and growled into her ear. "You're nowhere near done, are you?"

She took his hand. He reached into the tub with the other and kicked the shower on, then stood and tugged her in.

He watched the spray rain down on her for a moment then dropped to his knees and brought her to his mouth.

He lapped eagerly, tasting her, tasting himself. Finally, _finally_ tasting the mix of them.

And Joyce was silent no more.

She moaned with every swipe of tongue, keened with every light scraping of teeth.

Her hips thrust wildly, shamelessly grinding against Hopper, using his mouth, his chin, even his beard, anything she could to chase her pleasure.

She raised a leg and hooked a foot around his back, trying for an even better angle. He shifted, tugged the other leg, and then he was somehow balancing her full weight on his upper arms and shoulders while she rode his face.

It was hot as all hell, but Hopper honestly had no idea how he wasn't dropping her.

Her cries took on a pleading tone and he reached a hand carefully up, using his thumb to rub firm circles against her clit while his other fingers teased back along her crack.

She began to shake, her thighs clamping around his head. She flailed out blindly, desperate for something to anchor her as she convulsed, and found only the shower curtain.

There was a ripping sound and one of the rings went zinging off, squarely pegging a rubber duck sitting atop the toilet tank and knocking it into the bowl with a splash.

Hopper barked out a laugh even as Joyce was screaming and coming against his tongue.

He lowered her with shaking arms and propped her against the tiles to recover while he plopped gracelessly onto his ass, water beating down on his head.

Joyce lay back, dazed and gasping for air. Hopper reached out and twined his fingers with hers.

"I'm taking you to the carnival tonight and setting you loose on the milk bottles. They won't know what hit 'em."

She kissed him first.

It was the one thing Hopper had avoided, not sure he could take having to share that level of intimacy with shadow worlds and faceless monsters.

He needn't have worried.

The fear was still in Joyce's eyes, but not in her kiss. The kiss was all for him.

He pulled her to his chest, where she mumbled against his skin.

"God, I need this to be over. I need my kids back. I can't breathe. I can't _breathe_ anymore, Hop!"

He closed his eyes and held on.

"Baby, I can't remember the last time I breathed."


End file.
